


Cat’s Outta The Bag

by Priestlyislove



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Accidental Confession, Animal Transformation, Episode: s01e33 The Island of Lost Dakotas, First Kiss, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Secrets, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a teeny tiny bit of angst, cat fic babey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 21:05:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13843029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/pseuds/Priestlyislove
Summary: Cav is too adorable for words and Dakota is too talkative for his own good.Danville is a magical, chaotic place.





	Cat’s Outta The Bag

**Author's Note:**

> The obligatory cat fic because that’s what I’m here for. Brilliant title devised by forfuckssakejim

Somewhere, across the city, a platypus and an evil scientist were fighting over a machine capable of dubious science. Good triumphed, as it tends to, but not before a couple stray shots from the machine spiced Danville up with a little extra chaos. The citizens were used to it, between the presences of evil and bored genius-children in their town, but outsiders were often left surprised. Especially when those outsiders weren't even from their time period.

So as Dakota split off from Cavendish for just a few seconds, distracted by the dazzling contents of a store window, Cavendish was shot through the chest with a beam of light that was decidedly nonfatal. It made a distinctive _pop!_ sound and Cavendish was hit with a wave of dizziness, forceful enough to land him on his back. The dizziness vanished as quickly as it had arrived, but it left Cavendish with something much stranger.

Everything around him was disorientingly huge. And his arms refused to rest at his sides, sticking straight up instead, although they weren't very arm-like anymore. As he rolled onto his stomach and tried to get back on his feet, his suspicions were confirmed: they were paws, and they were without a doubt his. He had lost both his height and status as a bipedal. He walked in a little circle, trying to figure out what exactly was going on with his body. Short gray fur and a tail, that flicked and swished with a mind of its own.

He tried to call out to Dakota, but the only sound that left his mouth was a squeaky mew. Dakota was walking back over, “I told you, I just…” He started with loud confidence, voice fading as he blinked around, realizing Cavendish was nowhere in his line of sight. He spotted him in a moment, obviously not recognizing him, but crouching down to pet him nonetheless. Cavendish’s instinct was to tell him to keep his pudgy hands to himself, so he hissed at him, which probably wasn’t the best move.

“Okay, okay,” Dakota held up his hands in mock defense and backed off. He glanced around one more time before sighing, sticking his hands in his pockets and continuing his casual search elsewhere. Cavendish bounded after him, meowing in vain. Dakota smiled down at him, “You’re sending me mixed messages, little fella. You wanna get pet or not?”

Cavendish bit back an annoyed huff and sat at his feet. If he had to get pet in order for Dakota to realize it was him, then he’d just have to deal with it. Dakota was surprisingly gentle and it was kind of...nice. Dakota only stroked him with two fingers to accommodate his littleness, and Cavendish realized he must’ve been a kitten. As if the situation couldn’t get more humiliating.

“As much as I’d like to play with you all day, I’ve got to go find my partner. You see him anywhere? He’s a fussy lookin’ old dude with a mustache.” Dakota pressed his pointer finger against his upper lip to demonstrate a mustache. Not waiting for a response, he stood back up and kept walking. Snapping out of the pleasant daze the petting had placed him in, he continued to follow closely at Dakota’s heels. He laughed, “I’m serious! I’m busy right now. He couldn’t have gotten far I had my head turned for like-like two seconds.” There was a bizarre bitter edge to his playful tone. “He couldn’t have gotten hit by a car, or there’d be paramedics and blood and screaming.”

 _Typical Dakota_. Joking about Cavendish dying even when he thought he wasn’t around. He’d like to say if he really died then he’d regret all these heartless jokes, but he wasn’t entirely sure that would be the case. Dakota really didn’t care about him at all. He’d probably quit looking for him in less than a minute. But he could worry himself about that later.

When he did not leave Dakota’s side, Dakota wiggled his leg at him in a halfhearted attempt to shoo him. He pointed to a small group of pigeons, “Why don’t you go chase those birds or something?” Cavendish’s ears flicked, but he made no other movements. “Eh, good idea. Those guys are practic’ly big as you.”

Dakota reached his hands into his pockets, rummaging around. “Do I have something on me that smells good? I don’t got any cat food. If I get you something to eat will you run along home? God, I’m such a pushover.” He glanced around one more time in case he had somehow skipped over Cavendish the first couple times. Which he had, but this time didn’t remedy that.

Dakota bought two hotdogs from a vendor, breaking one in half and eyeing Cavendish before breaking it in half again, deciding a fourth of a hotdog would be big enough for him. He crouched down and held it out for him. There were more important things than food going on, but Cavendish took it anyway. He didn’t realize he had been as hungry as he was. Dakota was always good at reminding Cavendish he needed to eat. It wasn’t personal, Cavendish knew that, and he wasn’t about to assign anything more to it than Dakota himself being hungry.

He always tried to avoid projecting thoughts and feelings onto Dakota’s actions, despite how much he’d like to. Pretending Dakota had ever spared him a second thought was an unfortunate pastime of his. He had never seen a passionate Dakota, a driven or loving Dakota. He didn’t know if he was ever like that. Certainly never directed at Cavendish. And that was _fine_ , he reminded himself, that was for the best. If Dakota took their job seriously then he’d see Cavendish as more of a disappointment then he already did.

Dakota had practically swallowed down all of his hotdog bits, which was strange. He was a stress eater, that’s what he had joked, but Cavendish did notice he ate fast when he was nervous. As nervous as a man like Dakota could be. What was he nervous about?

“Okay, go home now,” Dakota insisted gently. “ _Home_. Go home. It’s not safe for a little fuzzball like you out here, the traffic gets crazy and…” He gave up. Cavendish was not going anywhere. “Fine, you can stick with me, but just ‘til I find Cav. He won’t like you.” Dakota picked him up by the scruff of his neck like he weighed nothing. Cavendish tried to squirm free instinctively, but it was a fruitless struggle. Dakota slipped him into his jacket, propping him up carefully so he was secure but could see where they were going. “No claws, okay?”

Tucked against Dakota’s chest would not be a terrible way to spend the day, but the other circumstances were preventing him from enjoying that. Dakota kept talking, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Cav would love ya if he got t’know ya, but he’d get mad at me for getting distracted when we’ve got stuff to do. He’s...dedicated. It’s not a bad thing. It’s, uh, it’s something good, it’s just hard. I’m real tired.”

Cavendish didn’t know what that meant. Was he not sleeping well? Or was he tired of something? Tired of their job, tired of their mission, tired of him? He mewled quietly, knowing Dakota would not understand him, but too distressed to remain silent. Dakota patted his head.

“Still no screaming. That’s good. He’s probably still alive.” Dakota chuckled, but it was hollow, a strangled sound that Cavendish had never heard him make before. “God, I hope he’s alive.” He brightened up a little, remembering his fluffy company, “Wanna hear a secret? I’m a time traveler. Cav’s my partner, and we do all kinds of-uh, all kinds of secret agent stuff. We’re good-good enough, yeah, good enough. Well, he’s got a good-sincerely good-heart. An incurable humanist, he is.”

Cavendish sunk a little lower behind the fabric, flustered by the compliment but also suddenly feeling as though he was listening in on Dakota’s secret thoughts, like he was flipping through his diary or something. He wasn’t supposed to be hearing this. Even if it made him outrageously happy to hear.

Dakota ducked into an alleyway, calling out his name tentatively. Cavendish meowed in response every time, but that just made Dakota giggle. “Thanks for the help, I’m sure he’ll hear it if we both say it.” This was hopeless. Before he could despair, Dakota started scratching him behind his ear and both his brain and his body turned to butter. “Oh, that’s adorable,” Dakota cooed, and Cavendish realized he was purring. Once he was back to normal he knew he was never going to live that down. He swatted Dakota’s fingers away to prevent any further embarrassment.

Dakota didn’t mind. His mind was elsewhere. “He’s gonna save the world one day-we did once, me and him, but nobody knows. He’s gonna save it the real way, I guarantee it.” Not even Dakota’s improper grammar could slow down his heartbeat. Besides, a cat really had no place to judge a person’s speech patterns. He could let it slide, just this once. “He’s kind of an idiot like that,” even the word idiot seemed drenched in fondness, “willing to throw himself to any cause, make a martyr out of his old bones. But I guess that’s part of why I love him.”

It was so casual. So easy. The words slipped out of his mouth as though they had a thousand times, as if it were only muscle memory at this point. But oh, it was too wonderful to be real.

“Mreak.” Cavendish responded, but it would’ve sounded the same if he was a human, seeing how his brain had short circuited.

Dakota was circling back now, checking his phone and cursing under his breath. “He’s got to be somewhere,” He assured himself more than Cavendish. “He couldn’t have-I don’t know, vaporized? Did he vaporize?” He laughed weakly, “So, Yeah. That’s the problem. He keeps-keeps dying on the job, because he’s so ready-he wants to be a hero, but I just want him alive, y’know?”

There was a sudden pain in Cavendish, but it wasn’t physical, it wasn’t bodily. It was as though his very being was fractured, having stumbled across something he shouldn’t have. It was like his soul was being pulled in a very many different directions, a feeling that was unfortunately not entirely unfamiliar. Anomalies, he had thought, were just part of the job.

He was trembling unwillingly, so Dakota started petting him again, squishing him comfortingly against his soft chest. “He dies, I go back, and he’s okay. That’s our, uh, our thing. ‘Bout as romantic as a Greek tragedy. But everytime I go back, there’s two mes in one timeline. Two Dakotas, one Cav. Doesn’t work like that. So I send the other me to an island. Not sure what happens there, but you can’t help but hope for the best for yourself, right?”

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” Dakota digressed. “Just anxious. But you’ve been a real stellar listener, I’ll get you something nice once I find him. What do cats like? Do you like catnip?”

This was too much to take in. His view of Dakota had changed as drastically as his literal view of the world. It was the same Dakota as always, but presented in a new light. He wasn’t apathetic, he wasn’t unmotivated, he wasn’t cruel, he was just tired. Cavendish was not frightened of his own death; how could he be that selfish when Dakota was more than willing to break his fall at his own expense? Even when Dakota made fun of him, even when he was angry at him, when he swore he never wanted to see his stupid face again, he was still his safety net.

Because he was in love.

Cavendish’s heart would betray his brain often to fantasize, but he never let it get to love. Admiration, affection, lust, he craved all of these from Dakota, but never love. It was just too far fetched. It would’ve been a lovely dream, but waking up would’ve hurt too badly, and that kind of heartache was hard to look in the face everyday. So close, but so very, very, very far.

But he was in love.

Cavendish stuck his little claws into Dakota, struggling to climb up onto his shoulder. “Hey, I thought we agreed no claws!” Dakota cried, plucking him off by his scruff again. He held him up to his face. “What’s the issue, fluff-pants?”

Cavendish stretched as far as he could to lick his nose. Dakota snorted, delight twinkling in his eyes. “Alright, alright, you’re forgiven. Keep that pink bit of sandpaper to yourself.” His amusement faded just as quickly. He sighed, and in that sigh the crushing weight on his back could be heard. “Maybe it’s time I call it. Don’t like seeing the body, but really don’t like not seeing it. Makes me scared I’ll go back and he still won’t be there, like one day he’ll just vanish. Like he was never there at all. And it’ll just be me. Like three hundred me, yeah, but just me. And what would it have been for?”

Dakota walked back the way they came, his panic dissolving into submission, his pace slowing, as if that weight was digging into his shoulder blades more than usual. “And what about you, huh? You comin’ with me? Kittens all look pretty similar, I don’t think anybody would notice if there was two a’ you. Your owner can keep the other you, and you can hang out with me all you like.”

Cavendish seriously considered this. Being a pet was less than ideal, but being Dakota’s pet wouldn’t be completely terrible. Regardless of the body he was stuck in, he’d like to be with Dakota. But Dakota knelt down and put him back on the ground. “I’m kidding, ‘course, you gotta run home. I ain’t gonna pry you away from someone you love.”

_Pop!_

“But I love _you_!” Cavendish insisted, in a very human voice, occupying a very human body. Looks like whatever happened to him was temporary. They sat on the ground in stunned silence. Dakota just stared at him, slack jawed. Cavendish’s face burned red. “Uh, you found me! Yay!” He tried, giving him weak jazz hands.

“You...you were the cat.” Dakota spoke dumbly. He held his thumb and forefinger apart. “You were this big.”

Cavendish nodded, unsure of what else he could do. “I’m as confused as you are, but, um, at least it’s over!” 

“I told you everything.” Dakota’s eyes somehow managed to get wider. “Oh my god, I told you everything.”

“Right, back to business,” Cavendish cleared his throat, “Dakota, you’re the dearest friend I’ve got. My dying, your island-I wish you had told me sooner, so that we could’ve found a solution together, but I understand. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll do whatever I can to lessen your pain.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dakota slugged him in the arm, rather painfully. “You spend an hour as a furball, and now you’re goin’ soft on me? Get it together, dude.”

“I’m being serious!” Cavendish stood and helped Dakota up onto his feet. Even when they were both standing, they did not let go of each other. “You opened your heart to me-unwittingly, I admit, but nonetheless, I think that calls for some honesty in response.”

Dakota smiled at him, and there was a new weightlessness to that smile. It was breathtaking. “Just stay alive, alright?”

“I’ll try.” Cavendish smiled back. Their hands slid down together, fingers interlocking. They walked together, hand in hand. The silence was comfortable.

“So when you said you loved me-“ Dakota’s grin turned devious.

“Don’t start with that,” Cavendish huffed and looked away, cheeks flushing, “You said it first.”

“Hmm, nope, don’t remember that, maybe your little kitten mind was playing tricks in you,” Dakota waggled the fingers on his free hand to demonstrate the mind playing tricks. Before Cavendish could open his mouth to retaliate, Dakota stole a quick kiss, sending Cavendish into a spiraling, sputtering mess. “ _That_ you did do first, I was just getting retribution.”

It had been a strange afternoon, full of firsts. Confessions beyond what either of them could’ve ever expected. And things were not the way Cavendish dreamt them to be. They were better.

 

 

  
But if Dakota kept pretending every cat he ran into was Cavendish, Cavendish was going to go to that island and smack each one of him upside the head.


End file.
